Attitude

My dad used to preach something he called PMA - Positive Mental Attitude. I was like most kids when their parents talk, letting important ideas and advice go in one ear and right out the other. I was never a big subscriber to his views on PMA until I became a dad myself. Now I preach it to my kids like I were the Gordon B. Hinckley of our family.

I've been throwing a lot of batting practice the last little while. Getting ready for an All-Star game is not the easiest thing, but it's something we've taken upon ourselves to do. Might as well do it with the best possible attitude and with all the gumption you can. Preparedness is a wonderful thing.

Jacob really likes to swing the bat. He swings at good pitches. He swings at bad pitches. He swings at them when they're high and he swings at them when they're low. Inside, outside, up, down. Doesn't matter. He wants to get on base and he wants to do it now.

Last night his All-Star team had a scrimmage against the other All-Star team in town. Jacob came up his first time and promptly grounded out to the pitcher. Not a very auspicious beginning. He was mad about it, too. He wouldn't even talk to me when he came in the dug out. He's got it in his head that he's no good and so everyone needs to suffer.

His second time up he was more patient and hit a good pitch on a line drive out into center field. He advanced his way around the bases and scored one of the five runs our team scored. I thought that at-bat would teach him a lesson. Um, not quite.

Before his third time up I repeated my standard mantra to him as he sauntered to the plate. "Be patient," I said. "Only swing at the good ones." First pitch, in the dirt, but he swung. Strike one. Second pitch, again in the dirt, but he swung again. Strike two.

Now, sometimes I might blurt out, "That's not being patient," but this time I didn't. I said, "You can do this, Jacob. Believe in yourself. Have a good attitude." I also heard the third base coach saying just about the same exact thing. "Believe you can do this."

The next pitch he hit really hard, but right at the shortstop. One thing Jacob does is hustle and he beat the throw to first and went to second on a throwing error. He died there, but his whole attitude had changed.

Later, after the game, I again threw about 150 pitches and he was rocketing them out to the fence, attitude shooting skyward, too. Isn't it a wonderful thing when kids learn for themselves?

There is little difference in people,
but that little difference makes a big difference.
The little difference is attitude.
The big difference is whether it is positive or negative.
~W. Clement Stone

To Win or Not to Win

We finally bought our tickets to Utah last night. Unfortunately, they cost us waaaay more than we would have liked. I wish to heck we'd bought them last month, when we first started looking at them. They were about $175 per ticket cheaper than they are now.

The problem is, and has been, that we still may not get to use them. Jacob was elected to the All-Star team, a fact for which we are very, very grateful. Jacob loves playing on the All-Star teams. This is his third year and he always enjoys it. The problem is that the tournament goes until July 19th. On July 19th, we're scheduled to be in Utah, climbing up to Mt. Timponogos and its fascinating cave. So, we've been in stand-by mode for some time now.

The deal with the tournament is that it's lose two and you're done. The first year Jacob played, they were two and done. Last year, however, they played four games. The team is better this year than last and so I'm expecting them to do even better, going deep into it and maybe even playing for the championship. So, we find ourselves in the unenviable position of wanting Jacob's team to win, but also wanting to be on that plane on July 15th.

The thing is - and everyone who knows us should already know this, too - if they do win and go deep, Jacob will be there for the games. He's won the championship as a Yankee, but he's never won anything outside of the local Little League. This year he has his chance, and whether our plane leaves without us or not, we're rooting for our son to succeed. Wouldn't any other decent parent?

A Wonderful Life

Just outside my window at work there is a large tree. To me, it appears to be a button bark maple tree, though I'm not 100% sure. Cerulian patches of heaven peak through its branches, accentuating the jagged sharps of the leaves. Beyond, there are Canada geese quietly searching for tiny nuggets from the insect world in the grass. Occassionally they chase each other in a breakneck war of territory, nipping at each others tail feathers like a woodpecker in a virgin forest. In the forefront, the company pond, where a great blue heron stalks his prey in the mirky water, slowly and patiently taking each careful step. In the background, an itinerant worker riding the Zamboni-style lawnmower listens to his iPod. The yolk-yellow hue of dandelions begins to poke it's head up through the verdant lawn.

Why do I paint such an idyllic picture? I guess to capture for myself how beautiful this world can be, even when it's not trying.

It's been hot here in Virginia the last week. Hot as in near 100 degrees and with nearly that much humidity. As Yogi Berra once said, "It's not the heat, it's the humility."

But despite the sticky conditions, this world is really a gorgeous place to live. I love watching the birds play in the branches of that maple. They're mostly mockingbirds, but I've seen others, too. My dad loved birds. My wife loves birds. I now love birds, too. Look closely. Birds are beautiful.

So are all the colors of this world. I'm red/green colorblind, but even I can tell what care the Creator took in creating and assigning Roy G Biv, and all of his close neighbors. I once read that there are more than 18 decillion colors, which is an 18 with 33 zeroes after it. That's not infinity, but you pass by the decillion's house just before you get there.

You ever seen a good sunset when it's really humid and there are plenty of clouds in the sky? A masterpiece. I think every single one of those 18 decillion colors is involved in some way or other.

I love this world. I'm so happy to be alive in it. I try to take time to smell the flowers every day. One day they won't be there anymore, or I won't. I want to be ready and have lived life when that day comes. The only way to do that is to consciously take time to appreciate what you've been given. I thank Heavenly Father every single day. This is a wonderful place to live, no matter where you are.

Spring Cleaning

If you were to take a quick look inside my brain, I'm not sure what you'd find. To me, it's always seemed so crowded in there with the quagmire of useless information I've amassed over a lifetime. I've got so much junk piled up. I really need a spring cleaning. Useless baseball facts and stats will only get you so far in this life.

There are doubtless multiple personalities vying for their fair share of time in the limelight, as I'm convince that everyone has different masks they put on in varying situations. All the world's a stage, you know. I've got a work persona and a play persona, the family persona and the church persona. Then I've got some that may not be quite as well developed, like the attractive-person-talking-to-me persona and the really-officer-I-was-only-going-30-in-the-school-zone persona. I only pull those out when I need to, but I think about them all the time. They live right next to the you'll-be-sorry-when-I'm-dead-and-gone persona. I use that one more than I guess I should.

They say that people use about 10% of their brain. I wonder what the other 90% is doing while the active 10% is working. Mine probably just sits and watches television. I tend to do that too much, filling those far away corners with more useless information, like who shot JR and where the beef really is. That portion of my brain is slowly starting to turn to jelly.

Granted, there are still some good uses for my brain, other than using it as a football. I still carry around with me the good memories of my dad and I keep adding memories of my own family, my mom and my siblings, all of whom are still, thankfully, around. Those sections are solid and treasured. I also store scriptures and other odds and ends in there. My brother stores more words than I know. I don't understand half of what he says.

But that good part of my brain is about as big as a pea, egregiously overstuffed about as tight as a superball. The rest, well, let's just say that I could fill up the front lawn with a yard sale. The only bad thing is that when I get that all cleaned out, not only will it be an awfully big empty in there, but nobody would want all that junk anyway. I'd just have to pick it all up and put it back where it is.

Never mind. That sounds like an awful lot of work. I think I'll hold off on the spring cleaning for now.

Has anyone seen that remote?

Happy Anniversary Sweetheart!

Yesterday was my wedding anniversary. Thirteen years. Seems like 13 days, really. It's been a very good ride...and the end is nowhere in sight.

They haven't all been good days. We've had our share of downers, just like everybody. But it seems like we've had more than our share of up days, which is saying something in this world of immediate gratification and 50%+ divorce rates.

According to the pollsters, most couples, when they argue, argue about money. Kelly and I have never fought about money. Maybe I shouldn't say never, but it's only been a slight percentage of the total number of battles we've waged. We've fought, and fought hard. But it's never been about money. Rather, we argue about silly stuff like haircuts.

It's mostly been my fault, too. I have to admit it, sometimes I get a chip on my shoulder that just begs for knocking off. Kelly has almost always been very patient with me, though. I think she just looks at me like I'm a dope and moves on with life while I'm stuck in the mire of marital warfare.

When we got married, my mom and dad had been married for more than 40 years. Thinking that I could learn something from them, I asked for some advice. Without hesitation, dad said two words, "Immediate forgiveness." I think Kelly follows that counsel better than I do. I don't hold a grudge for long, but I do hold it. Kelly usually just goes on with life like she understands that life's too short to be stupid like that.

I still remember the first time I saw her. It was at Dominion Business School in the back hallway. She was going into the break room and I was going around the corner to my next class. We were both teaching there at the time, she nursing and I Math, Psych and English. I was flying paper airplanes through the hallways and she was doing venipuncture and the like.

She came around that corner with her rather large, red glasses and I felt the love bug flutter around my head and bite me clean on the neck. We held hands on our first date and I've loved her ever since.

The last 13 years have brought us a lot of joy and also our share of sorrow and pain. But for me, at least, the good has far outweighed the bad. I am married to the most beautiful and wonderful spouse in the world. I wish I could say the same for her. I mean, seriously. Look at us. What in the world was she thinking?

Never Again

I will never touch my son's head of hair again as long as I live. That is a promise you can bank on. Never, ever, ever.

Jacob made the All-Star team again this year. It's been a tradition on the All-Stars that the boys get a close haircut. Most of the boys do it. It's a team thing. I believe all but one or two did it last year and so far this year I think we only lack a handful. Jacob decided that he was going to get one, too, but there was a price attached to it. Fifty US dollars. For 50 US dollar he'd get his hair cut short, too.

I thought it was a bargain. His hair was too long as it was (as you can see by the picture) and $50 was just the way to get it cut. Deal, I said. This was Saturday afternoon. I'd take him to the barber that evening. Turns out I didn't have to wait that long.

When we got home from the pool that evening Jacob told me that I could cut it if I had $50 lying around. Yea, right? Me? With money? I had $7 and his mom made up the difference and we went upstairs to get it done.

Personally, I think it looks terrific. It's short, neat and to the point (although he has no bangs as he does in this picture). He is mortified. Since he's miserable, EVERYONE now needs to be miserable. He went to the pool today with his sister and mom and wouldn't take the towel off of his head. He's mortified. Short hair is for geeks...like his dad.

It's going to a long, long summer.

School's Out

Oh, man, how I've longed for this day. Freedom. Pure, lovely, unadulterated freedom. A breath of fresh air, if only for 80 days or so. The prison door is nearly open and will clang shut behind me in less than three hours. Liberation never tasted so sweet. In the immortal words of Alice Cooper, "...out for summer, out 'til fall, we might not go back at all..."

I used to feel that way about school closing. John Gonzalez, Alan Ruddy and I would count the days like a castaway on a desert island. We'd play for those 80+ days like we were wild banshees. There was no tomorrow. Now, sometimes I wish there were no tomorrow. Every day is the same now. The prison door hardly ever opens, and then only in minute 2-day respites that somehow only serve to only make the first day back all the worse.

Today, as you may have guessed, is the last day of school. Summer vacation starts at 3:40pm. It starts, that is, for the kids. For those of us working grunts, it never really does. Nowadays I have to confine myself to having adventures in the copy room or in the cafeteria. No more pirates in the new framed house in the back lot. No more haunted houses across the street. No more sitting in the treehouse reading Superman comics and Street and Smith's baseball yearbook. Those days have disappeared into the ethereal past like doubleheaders at Yankee Stadium.

I'm going to play this summer a little differently than I've played all of my other adult summers. This year I'm going to do all of those things again...with my own kids. I mean, come on. They're kids, right? They instinctively know how to have fun. Let them dictate. Go out and hit? Sure! Lay on the hammock? You bet! Play with the American Girl dolls? I'd be happy to. What better way to have fun? Now I've just got to convince my little girl that pirates are a better source of enjoyment than are the dolls. But it shouldn't be too hard. She already likes Cap'n Crunch.

Pass that Superman comic, will you?

Jerk Move

I'm an aggressive driver. I admit it. Most of the time I feel that sitting in a car and driving is a waste of time. I like to get there and be done with it. When I moved up here from SW Virginia, I got mad at drivers like me. I'd lived here for a year or two and my then future wife told me that I'd turned into an aggressive driver. I didn't believe her then, but I do now.

I try to be as productive as I can, memorizing scripture and poems and such while I go. During that time I feel relatively justified. At least I'm doing something instead of just sitting on my brains.

Two days ago, I passed a gal going down Rt. 29. I was going pretty fast, but it wasn't a jerk move. I define a jerk move as going really fast and ducking in just in front of the guy you just passed, only to slow down and turn. What? You couldn't just wait your turn?

Anyway, I passed her, got into her lane, drove another mile and then turned left, with her a good way behind me. I was already going 55 mph when she decided to pass me back, on a dotted yellow line on a two-lane road. Funny thing was that as soon as she passed me, she slowed down. and stayed right in front of me almost the whole way to work. She didn't need to pass me. She just did it to get back at me for passing her. Hers was a jerk move.

I didn't think another second about it until yesterday when she passed me again on the same road. Seriously? Seriously? This time she REALLY passed me for no good reason. In fact, she sneaked up on me. I didn't see her coming. Before I knew it, she was by me and slowing down again. I gritted my teeth and endured, but I stayed close the whole time. Another jerk move.

That brings me to today. I sat at the same light where I first saw her two days ago. There was a line of cars in front of me waiting to turn right, and one of them was her. Three days in a row! I felt my heart beat a little faster as I realized this was my chance...she hadn't seen me yet! She tucked in behind a little silver Honda in the left lane. I made the corner and gunned it, passing her and the Honda on the right with a quarter mile to go before the turn. It was a jerk move, I admit it, but it felt oh so good.

I made sure that she kept her distance today. No sneaking up on me. I even passed one more guy on the dotted yellow line 2-lane to put more distance between us. At the end of the road I turned just in front of a red pickup and a long line of other cars. She had to wait for them all and by the time she got out, I was long gone.

It was a fun drive to work today, much shorter than the last two mornings. Now I can't wait for tomorrow. Bring it on, girlie. I'm wise to you now!!

Crummy ticks

Isn't it amazing what such a small, seemingly insignificant being can do? This is a picture of Jacob's left hand. He got bit by a tick on Sunday afternoon and this is the way it looks now. Before you ask, yes, we've got him on antibiotics. And yes, he's been to the doctor. In fact, as I write this, he's going to the pediatrician again, probably for an injection. But his words to Kelly this morning were very telling. Said he, "Anything to make this go away." It must hurt him considerably, for to get my son to subject himself to possible injection you've almost got to make the earth move.

The bad thing is that his All-Star practice starts tonight. No catching and no hitting for a while. That's one thing that's for sure. He can't even grip a bat much less swing it for power. I'm not even sure he could get his hand inside a mitt right now.

It's been a tough week, medically speaking, at our house. Hannah had a kidney infection (which now seems to have gone). Kelly had an abscess in her jaw bone which required a root canal (much better now, thank you). And now Jacob with his tick bite. Should I be worrying here?

UPDATE: The doctor had to cut Jacob's hand to let it drain. Evidently, the stuff that came out of it was clear, so it's just inflammation. He was a real trooper and only winced one time. Other than that, tough guy. We've changed the antiobiotics he's on and he's now, unbelievably, in school. We've got to watch it carefully the next couple of days, but he should be fine.

Another Good Week

My little man graduated from Elementary School last night. Now he's a Middle Schooler, which really doesn't seem possible to me. My kids are growing up way, way too fast. Not only did he graduate, but he also was awarded the Presidential Award for Academic Excellence. He qualified for that by having at least a 3.5 GPA and certain high scores on standardized tests. I was so proud of him. Too bad that little gal had to step in front of him right when he was getting his diploma. Would have made a lot better picture without her in it. This one to the right is a picture of him with his teacher. Jacob really enjoyed being in her class.

He and I also went and ran in a one-mile fun run on Saturday. I guess it was called The Race for the Future. It was for an Elementary School here in town. It was a one-mile course that was pretty hilly and there were about 40-50 people involved. The rest ran in the 5k race, which I didn't think we were ready to run together. Neither one of us had really trained for it. In the picture above he's wearing the t-shirt he got for the race that very morning. Notice how he's already filthied it up.

Anyway, the race started and we ran together for a little while, until he got tired of running so slowly. He ran just ahead of me until the halfway mark. Then he turned on the jets...and won the race. He passed an adult at the very end to win by about 15 feet. I was so proud of him. He was jacked the rest of the day. Eleven years old and he's already winning races. Good for you, Jacob. I'm proud of you. Tip your hat to all of the applause.

A Good Week

My little girl played on the All-Star team last Saturday. You think I was the proud papa? I took 179 pictures during a four-inning game. I don't usually get the opportunity to take many pictures during All-Star games because I'm usually a coach. But this is the first time Hannah has been on an All-Star team and I wasn't involved in softball in any way. So, the proud daddy prowled the sidelines and took as many pictures as he could. I'll only show a few here.

Not only did she get elected to and then play on the All-Stars, she also got into the Signet program at school. Signet is an accelerated program in which the kids meet once or twice a week and go over stuff they wouldn't in their regular classes. Jacob got into Signet a few years ago and started out hating it. Now he loves it because they do things he thinks are really interesting. He got in because of his math skills. Hannah made it because of her language and communications skills. I keep telling both of them that they got into that class because they are exceptional kids, smart kids, if you will. I don't mean to make it sound like they're better than anyone else, because the last thing I want them to think is that they're better than anyone. But they should feel that they are intelligent kids, as I think that helps a person have a good self esteem.

Now, if that weren't enough, she also got into the local dance company. She tried out a few weeks ago and finally got her letter. She was thrilled. They dance in the local parades and such, and have even gone the Macy's parade to dance there. All in all, I'd say that's a pretty good week. Wish I had more like that.

Second Coming?

Many years ago I graduated from BYU with a degree in Broadcast News. I became a member of the Fourth Estate, digging and writing, questioning and creating. I covered news from local human interest to nationally relevant. But I didn't enjoy it like I thought I would. There were too many baby killings and excessive trials. It just wasn't something I wanted to subject my family to, so I got out.

Over the years since I've watched the media become so self-important that it's made my blood boil. Gone are the days when reporters are supposed to be subjective and unbiased. Now people seem to rely on the media to tell them what to do and what to believe. It's reprehensible, if you ask me.

So, I watched with interest the debut of one Stephen Strasburg. Before I get started, let me say that I'm a fan. I hope the kid does well. I want him to go to the Hall of Fame one day. I just think it's a little early to start casting his image in bronze.

If you ask any of the local media organizations, however, the HOF is late with his induction. I heard things like, "This kid is so talented that he will turn The Nationals around" and "This is the most talented player to come into the majors since Babe Ruth." All of this, BEFORE HE EVER THREW ONE PITCH IN THE MAJORS!!

Come on. Have we really gone down that road? Have we really come to the point where ballplayers are branded Hall of Famers before they even put on the uniform? I believe in hyperbole, but this is ridiculous!

The comment that got me writing about this was spoken by one of the locals yesterday afternoon. I heard it as I was taking off my shoes after a hard day's work at the office. Before I could even settle down into the easy chair I heard, "The long wait for Washington is over! Stephen Strasburg is here to save the Nationals!"

Granted, he had a monster outing in his first game. Fourteen strikeouts in 7 innings. Two earned runs and only a couple of hits. I admit it, that's good for anyone, let alone someone in his first game. But the savior of the organization? Could we wait until he's 23 or 24 and has more than 7 innings under his belt to lay that whole Second Coming thing in his lap?

You've Got a Friend

Took my sweetie to see James Taylor and Carole King last night. It was a terrific concert, which I really enjoyed. They sang so many good songs, from "You've Got A Friend" to "Sweet Baby James" to "Fire and Rain". JT joked and goofed, as he usually does, and CK rocked. And I mean rocked. She bellowed and was about as raucous as any long-haired rocker could be. The chemistry was terrific. This is about the 6th or 7th time I've seen JT, so admittedly I'm a fan. This is the first time for CK, and I hope it's not the last. I've got a few of her cds, including her Living Room Tour live album. Excellent. The shot to the left is a picture of one of the jumbo-tron monitors they had at the top of the stage, which rotated once every 15 minutes or so. Kelly and I had seats high up in the rafters, but it didn't matter. The sound was still good there and you could actually speak to the person next to you without having to shout in their ear. I have no lingering ringing in my ears today (except the tinitus I usually have). That's a nice change. To the right there's a picture of the stage from where were. You can see JT standing at the mike and CK sitting at her piano. This tour they're doing is a celebration of the concert they did together 40 years ago at the Troubadour theater in LA. That concert propelled them both to stardom. They even had to original cast there, including Leland Sklar (bass), Russ Kunkel (drums) and Kootch (Danny Kortchmar) on guitar. Pretty cool. Here's a picture I got out of the Washington Post. That's Lee Sklar you can see with the long beard. Great show. Parking cost us $25 and I felt as though I were driving into the bowels of hell, but we finally got to the end of the parking lot, though we couldn't find our way out after the concert. Good show. Go see it if you have the chance.

Too much of a good thing

Let's face it, baseball is the best sport around. Nothing can excite fans more broadly than a good game of baseball. From a pitcher's duel to a slugfest, baseball has it all. Slow? I don't think so, not, at least, when you understand the nuances and finesse of the game. With every single pitch there is strategy. With every moment there is intrigue. I love it.

But I'm tired. I'm tired of baseball right now. I'm ready for the season to be over. I'm ready to get on with our summer. We've been going with baseball now for nearly six straight months. At least twice a week there's a practice. At least twice a week there's a game. Thirteen Little League games (6-7) and a lot more than that with the travel team. Combine Yankees and Bulls, practices and games, and we've probably been in a ballpark every day for three months.

I'm ready for it to be over, but only for a little while. Come September I'll be ready to be out there again. I will try and get my own team in the Fall season. Nothing I like more in baseball than teaching the boys the subtle skills of the game. But for now, I'm looking forward to going to Utah, sitting by the pool or just reading a good book in the sunroom. It will be nice to sit around and enjoy the summer.

Kelly's going to quit her job in the next few days, then both softball and baseball will be over and finally we'll have our nights back. Kelly will stay home with the kids over the summer and we'll just have a good time.

Oops. I forgot. Swim team has already started. Practices every night at 7:40 and meets every Saturday morning at 6am. Time? What in the heck is that?

I finally got my garden wall finished. This is the way it looks now, from the southeast side. I'm happy to have it finished, though I love having a garden. There's nothing quite like getting out there in the soil and getting your hands dirty. I love going out each morning and plucking the vegetables of my labor. As you can see, the potatoes are growing like weeds and the rest of the garden looks like it's growing, too. I gave it plenty of good decomposing soil, lots of water and as much sun as it can handle. It's all growing quite nicely, thank you.

I hope I grow my kids like I grow my vegetables. Hopefully, I'm giving them enough food, soil, water and sun to help their little roots grow deep and strong. right now we're having a few relatively small problems with our youngest son. He's been playing baseball for six years and has never been one to have to sit on the bench much. Now he's having to ride the pine for several innings per game and it's not sitting well with him AT ALL. He says he doesn't want to play anymore and it's a battle just to get him to the field.

But Kelly and I have tried to teach our kids that we are not quitters. We have never let them quit in the middle of a season and this is no exception. He will continue to play until the end of this season, then we'll reevaluate what's going on. Lessons like that are hard to learn, especially when you're only 11-years old. But going without a lot of water sometimes makes you sink your roots deeper down into the soil to find that life-giving substance. I hope he's having to search for it right now because this can make him so much stronger, if he'll just let it.